Right Here By Your Side
by LadySolitaire83
Summary: "Sherlock Holmes, have you been experimenting on your own daughter?" In which Sherlock, Molly, and Baby Minerva visit Violet Holmes's mansion for their monthly family lunch. This time, they are joined by Mycroft. Family fluff ensues. Thanks to Kathmak for the idea! (Follow up to Your Worst Fears.)


**RIGHT HERE BY YOUR SIDE**

**A/N: A year ago, Kathmak remarked that she couldn't wait to hear what Violet thought of Sherlock's emotional growth (and possibly his relationship with Molly) when she reviewed Chapter 6 of _Your Worst Fears_. At that point, I had written everything that the story needed and I didn't want to add a new element to the story. Thus, the idea for the sequel to my most successful fic (so far) was born. I apologize that this took a little over a year. I hope y'all (especially Kathmak) enjoy this one! :)**

**While this is a T-rated fic, there are a few sexual references, mentions of the word 'sex,' and a slightly M-rated scene near the end. You may skip over those if you're not comfortable with them.**

**The title comes from the song "Right Here (By Your Side)" by JC Chasez (who, incidentally, is celebrating his birthday today).**

**I own nothing. Everything belongs to Sir Arthur Conan Doyle, BBC, Steven Moffat, and Mark Gatiss. If I owned Sherlock and Molly Hooper, then there would be a lot more Sherlolly in the show. All mistakes are mine. I welcome reviews and constructive criticism.**

* * *

**I.**

"Molly! The car is here!"

Dressed in his usual suit and Molly's favourite purple shirt under his Belstaff coat, Sherlock glanced at his watch as he stood by the entrance to 221B Baker Street's sitting room. The khaki shoulder bag that he held swung from side to side as he raised his arm to check the time.

"Just one second!" Molly's voice floated out from their bedroom. "Sherlock, have you seen the changing bag?"

Barely suppressing an impatient sigh, he took a few steps towards the kitchen, where she could see him from their bedroom door. "It's with me," he declared, raising his arm to show Molly that he indeed carried it. "Now, could you _please_ hurry up? My mother may be fond of you and our daughter, but she loathes tardiness."

"Will you relax?" Clad in a knee-length carnation pink dress under a bright yellow mac, Molly emerged from the bedroom with eight-month-old Minerva and a large colourful tote bag in each arm. She strapped her babbling daughter in the car seat that sat on the unusually clean dining table. "It's just us, your mum, and Mycroft. I've already talked to Violet, and she said she doesn't mind if we were a little late." She removed a plush bumblebee toy from her tote bag and presented it to her daughter, who grabbed it from her hand. She lifted the car seat and flashed her fidgety partner a bright smile as she walked towards him. "But we're not going to be late because your brother's driver won't let that happen. Am I right, Mr Holmes?"

Sherlock chuckled and kissed Molly on the lips. "As ever, Dr Hooper, you are right. Ready to go?" He took the car seat from her before stepping out of the flat. Smirking, he tried pulling the plush toy from their daughter's tight grasp at the top of the landing, while she locked the flat entrance door. He ran down the stairs before she could drop the key back into her tote bag.

Molly glanced at her daughter, who was mouthing her plush toy, as she followed him down the stairs. "Daddy is eager to leave, isn't he?" She raised an eyebrow at Sherlock's back when he didn't respond. "Hmmm, I think I know why." She smirked at him when she crossed the threshold. "Eager to see Mummy, darling?"

He rolled his eyes as he closed the main door. "I am _not_ eager to see my mother." He paused to help her secure Minerva's car seat in the middle of the back seat. "I just don't want to be late for this bloody lunch with my mother and my brother."

"If you say so. But you're fidgety. You were wide awake when I got up to drink water last night. And you couldn't wait to wake me up this morning," Molly answered as they sat on either side of the baby and fastened their seat belts. She paused when he informed the driver that they were ready. "You rushed me," she continued, "when I was in the shower, when I was getting dressed, when I was getting Minerva dressed, and, just now, when I was making sure we've got everything we need for our day out." She reached over and grabbed his large hand, which was stroking the baby's leg. "Is everything all right, Sherlock?" she asked in a gentle voice, concern evident in her tone.

He turned to her and patted the hand covering his. "Of course everything is all right."

She nodded and crossed her legs. "I see. Are you secretly on a case? I need to know because we can't put Minerva in danger," she answered the question in his eyes.

"Molly, you should know by now when I'm on a case. And you know that I won't put our daughter in any danger. She's only eight months old, after all."

"Um, I'll pretend I didn't hear that last part." She studied him for a moment before squeezing his hand. "So what is going on? You've been… er… fine on the past several times we had lunch with your mum. Is it because Mycroft will join us today?"

His brows furrowed. "I don't know what you're implying, but this has nothing to do with my brother." He tugged the hem of Minerva's lilac dress and made a silly face at her, prompting her to giggle with the toy still in her mouth. "And, before you ask, I'm clean," he declared without taking his eyes off his laughing daughter.

She pulled out her mobile and snapped a photo of Sherlock playing with their baby. "Good to know. But you had a cigarette, didn't you?"

He paled for a moment before glancing up at her. "I needed one." He cleared his throat and turned his attention back to Minerva. "Or three."

She giggled at the guilty look on his face. "Relax. I won't tell Violet." She began stroking his cheek. "Do I need to worry?"

He shook his head. "Nope. I'm just a little bit restless today, is all. I apologise if I made you worry."

"Apology accepted." She pulled him close and kissed him, while their daughter squealed in her car seat.

**II.**

A little over two hours later, the car pulled in at the driveway of the Holmes mansion. Molly took Minerva out of the car seat and grabbed her tote bag before exiting the vehicle. She stood in place until Sherlock's fingers intertwined with her own. The couple smiled at each other before they walked towards the 79-year-old woman standing by the front doors.

"Hello, Molly!" exclaimed Violet once they were within an arm's length. "You look lovely, my dear." The elder woman gave the pathologist a kiss on both cheeks.

She giggled. "Oh, thanks!" She pulled away with a smile and glanced at the pearl earrings and pearl necklace that the other woman was wearing. "Sherlock's gifts look amazing on you," she said. She winked at her partner, who only rolled his eyes and sighed.

Violet laughed and winked at Molly. "There's nothing like your youngest son apologising for faking his death and hiding it from his poor mum. If your daughter attempts that later, you'd know not to accept anything less than jewellery as apology." She turned to Minerva and smiled sweetly. "Hello, sweetie. Come and kiss Grandma." She took her babbling granddaughter and kissed her cheek before ushering the couple into the house.

"Mycroft." The detective nodded at his older brother, who stood at the foot of the stairwell and leant against the banister. Without breaking eye contact with his brother, he removed his Belstaff coat and handed it to the butler.

"Sherlock," he responded. He nodded at his brother's partner and gave her a small smile. "Molly."

The pathologist smiled brightly as she handed her coat to the butler. "Hello, Mycroft. How are you? I haven't seen you in a while."

"I am well, thank you." He straightened up and walked towards them. "My apologies. I'm afraid I have been quite busy these days. And my dear brother has not given me reason to visit, thank heavens."

Molly kissed him on the cheek and then held her hands behind her. "You could also visit your niece. She barely knows you."

Sherlock sighed loudly. "Don't bother, Molly. We don't want our daughter to end up as fat as-"

"William Sherlock Scott Holmes, you will _not_ insult your brother in my house!" scolded Violet. She glared at him until the detective mumbled an apology to his brother. Smiling, she turned to her eldest son. "She's right, dear. You've only visited them once after Molly gave birth." She moved to hand Minerva over to Mycroft. "Here, hold her for a while."

Mycroft lifted his eyebrow and stared at the baby as if she were a part of Sherlock's homeless network. He gave his mother a pleading look, but he only received a raised eyebrow as a response. Sighing, he turned to his niece and frowned at her, his arms hanging by his sides.

Minerva, on the other hand, babbled and stared back at her uncle. "Dada?" she uttered as she extended her arms towards him, making the women laugh.

A miffed Sherlock moved towards them and took his daughter from his mother. "No, Minerva. _I_ am Dada," he corrected, pointing at his chest for emphasis. He pointed at his brother. "That is _Uncle_ _Myc_."

Grimacing, the British government faced his niece and looked her in the eye. "No, my dear Minerva. You will call me Uncle _Mycroft_."

"She's eight months old, brother mine." He turned to her and pointed at his brother again. "Uncle Myc."

"Her parents are two of the cleverest individuals in the country. Her paternal grandmother was an intelligence officer. She is a Holmes, for heaven's sake. I cannot believe that she's not advanced for her age. She _will_ call me Uncle Mycroft, or I will _not_ respond to her."

Minerva stared at her uncle and displayed her new teeth in a bright smile. "Mafa."

Amid the women's cheering, he gave his younger brother a smug look. "Close enough," he remarked. Sherlock only smirked at him and kissed his laughing daughter's cheek.

The butler emerged from the room to Mycroft's left. He smiled once he caught his employer's eye. "Mrs Holmes, lunch is ready to be served."

Violet smiled at the butler. "Thank you, Gavin," she replied as she led her family into the formal dining room. She sat at the head of the table, while her eldest son sat to her right.

Sherlock turned to his partner as he sat down across his brother. "Molly?"

"Yeah?" she answered without looking up from securing Minerva in the booster seat between her chair and Sherlock's.

"Did my mother tell you that she used to be an intelligence officer? You didn't seem surprised when my brother let it slip."

"No, she didn't. I guessed it, though it wasn't confirmed until today." She gave Minerva a peck on her forehead before settling in her seat. She glanced at him and sighed upon seeing his questioning gaze. "I may not be a consulting detective, but I guess I've learned a thing or two from you. I've noticed the usual things I'd seen in spy films: surveillance cameras, possible listening devices, highly advanced security systems, your mum's impeccable memory and agility, et cetera. I've also seen the gun in Gavin's shoe." She threw the mildly surprised butler an apologetic smile. "Accidentally, of course." Molly turned to Violet and her cheeks turned pink. "I'm sorry, but I also overheard something when I stayed over last Christmas."

The elder woman's red lips formed an 'O' and amusement shone in her eyes. She shook her head and laughed. "Oh, _that_."

Sherlock and Mycroft turned to their mother. "Mum? What did she overhear?" the latter asked.

"Oh, relax! It was a small matter." She waved her hand in dismissal of her sons' worries and smiled at Molly. "Darling, what part did you hear?"

"Um, I was on my way to get water when I heard your voice coming from the office. You were talking to a prime minister - Harper, I think - about using Minerva to get access to Justin Bieber." Recognising the blank look on the brothers' faces, she giggled. "He's a pop star in America. His music isn't terrible, but his behaviour is appalling. I believe fame got into his head. Anyway-"

Sherlock raised his hand to cut off Molly's speech. He leant forwards and narrowed his eyes at his mother. "You were going to use _my daughter_ to spy on a pop star?" He felt Molly's hand on his arm and heard his name from her lips, but he ignored it and continued staring at his smiling mother.

"The prime minister asked me to take care of him, but I declined. Minerva wasn't even born yet! And, back then, I didn't know that she was yours. Anyway, I just told Mr Harper that I'd think about it."

"We have no file on Mr Bieber," Mycroft remarked. "Is he a suspected terrorist?"

Violet laughed. "Oh, aside from his atrocious behaviour and clichéd lyrics - I'd have to disagree with you on his music, Molly dear - North America has nothing to fear." She turned to the butler. "I think we're ready for the soup and salad. Thank you, Gavin." She smiled at her sons and Molly. "If I ever agree to take care of this pop star, I will ask your permission to use Minerva to get access. You can relax for now."

Sherlock and Molly glanced at each other. He shook his head. "No," he emphasised.

She grabbed his hand and squeezed it. "Let's talk about it when it becomes an issue, yeah? She's way too young anyway." She smiled when he slowly nodded at her.

Silence fell over the four once the household staff began bringing in the soup and salad. While the adults feasted on the garden vegetable and goat's cheese quiche, Sherlock and Molly alternately fed their daughter sweet potato and cheese mash. When the staff brought out the chocolate fudge cake, Sherlock sniggered until the pathologist gave him her now-patented death stare. Mycroft only raised his eyebrow and ate his dessert without taking his eyes off his brother. Violet only chuckled with Molly and made silly faces at her granddaughter.

After lunch, they retired to the parlour with cups of tea and a plateful of milk chocolate digestive biscuits. The couple sat on one cream leather sofa with a Moses basket in the middle, while Violet and Mycroft sat on the opposite sofa. The pathologist laid a sleepy Minerva in the basket and softly sang to her until she fell asleep. As she did so, Violet watched her with a fascinated look on her face. Sherlock's lips curled into a loving smile, which he hid behind his teacup, and gazed at her with a tender look in his eyes. Even the British government couldn't hide his admiration in his small smile.

Once the baby was asleep, Molly sat back and finally picked up her teacup. Sipping her tea, she looked up and noticed the Holmeses staring at her. "Do I have something on my face? Or my dress?" she asked, wiping her cheeks and mouth and looking for stains on her dress.

The brothers said nothing, but Violet smiled at the pathologist. "No, darling. I just decided that I will disown Sherlock if he let you go." She narrowed her eyes at her youngest son. "Remember that, dear."

The detective rolled his eyes. "Not going to happen, Mum. You love me too much."

"Touché. Perhaps you'd rather have me set her up with DI Lestrade?"

"Lestrade would bore her. He's not nearly as clever as I am. I'm also a much better lover than he is." He sat back, satisfied at his brother almost choking on a mouthful of tea and at his partner's pink cheeks. "He's also happily married to a faithful woman."

"Sherlock, I've brought down terrorist groups and governments. Do you really think I wouldn't break up a marriage?"

"You could. But you wouldn't."

"Damn." Violet sipped her tea. "I wager that I can find a suitable man for Molly before the tabloids run the story."

The detective chuckled. "I'm sure you can do whatever you set your mind to, Mum. But I doubt that that's necessary. As John has said multiple times, Molly and I are perfect for each other. A match made in heaven, so to speak. Who else would run experiments with me, discuss death and murder with me, _and_ sleep with me?"

"He's probably right," Molly piped up. She sipped some tea before continuing. "It's always been difficult to stay with a man who gets grossed out when I talk about my job. I tend to ramble about the fascinating things I discover at work or my experiments for my journal articles. So when I do that, say, during dinner, my date would lose his appetite and his interest in me. My previous boyfriends and dates never understood that it's not just a job for me. I mean, they couldn't fathom that someone like me would enjoy finding out how and why my patients ended up in my morgue." She smiled at the man currently lowering his head to kiss the baby's cheek. "No one found my morbid interests fascinating. Until Sherlock, that is."

He smiled back at her before glancing at his mother. "Have we told you the story of our first meeting?"

Violet thought for a moment. "You have mentioned bits and pieces of the story. I'd like to hear the full story from both of you, though." She turned to her eldest, who was looking at his pocket watch. "Myc?"

Mycroft looked up and shrugged his shoulders. "Molly told me the story when I invited-"

"Kidnapped, you mean," interrupted Sherlock.

"-_Invited_ her to chat about your professional relationship. But do go on. It's a slow day in the office anyway. Oh, and please stop calling me Myc."

"All right then." He turned to his mother. "I had just started working with Lestrade and he'd dragged me to Barts to look at a body. Molly was about a month into the job. We found her talking to - or talking _at_, I should say - the very same body we were about to see."

"You see," she said with a laugh, "the man died suddenly. His children thought someone had killed him. So I was asking him if there was someone who would want him dead and what he could have done to that person. Sherlock and Lestrade caught me talking to him! Oh, my God. I was so embarrassed. But Sherlock just glanced at me and rattled off his mostly spot-on observations. Then he strongly recommended that I look for poison in the victim's system, which I was going to do anyway. He had deduced that the victim's business partner put poison in his food. But, of course, Sherlock needed physical evidence."

"When she finished her post-mortem and the results came back," he continued after a brief pause, where Minerva fussed in her sleep, "I got my evidence. The tests indicated that the man had died from ingesting a lethal dose of polonium-210 several months before his death. Lestrade apprehended the business partner, who turned out to be the lover of the victim's wife." He smirked at his mother. "And that's how our working relationship began."

Mycroft grinned. "That's _adorable_."

The detective narrowed his eyes and scowled at his brother. "Oh, shut up. Caring about her 'patients' sets her apart from the other pathologists in the country. Add her compassion to her medical expertise and excellent instincts, and you've got the best pathologist in the bloody UK. And, if you _must_ know, Mycroft, it's one of the reasons we're here today."

Molly squeezed his hand. "Thanks, honey." She giggled at his slight grimace.

Violet brought her hand to her chest and gazed fondly at her son. "Honestly, Sherlock, I'm glad you're showing this side of you again."

"What side?" the couple asked at the same time.

Violet turned her gaze on Molly. "When he was a child, when we still called him Will, we got him a dog. When he first saw the dog, he smiled so brightly and named it Redbeard. You can tell it was during his pirate phase. Anyway, he _loved_ that dog. They were inseparable. A few years later, the dog was diagnosed with cancer, and we had to put him down because he was suffering so much. Oh, Sherlock was inconsolable! He cried for about a week. Then he came out of his room and demanded that we start calling him Sherlock, not Will. That's when his pirate phase - and, frankly, his childhood - ended."

"Oh, Mum. How could you leave out the best part?" His jaw clenched and eyebrow arched, he turned to Molly. "My father left us right after we buried Redbeard. You must remember that I'd just lost my dog. Anyway, I'd deduced why he was leaving us. So on his way out, I demanded to know why he chose his pregnant paramour over us. But he just drove off." He glanced at his mother and brother, whose expressions matched his own. "End of story."

"I'm so sorry," Molly said, squeezing his hand. She turned to Violet, whose face softened upon meeting her eyes. "I didn't know."

The elder woman smiled. "That's all right. We don't talk about it much. Besides, it has been over two decades. It's not important now. Right, boys?"

"Yes, Mum," answered the brothers, who shared a glance before sipping their tea.

Molly placed her hand on Sherlock's arm. "Are you all right?"

He gave her a smile that barely reached his eyes. "Yeah, of course. Really," he insisted as she raised her eyebrow at him.

Mycroft cleared his throat and set his teacup back on its saucer. He rose and fixed his gaze on his brother. "I think we both need some air after talk of Father, don't you?"

Sherlock cleared his throat and kissed Molly and Minerva on the cheek before rising to his feet. He faced his mother. "We'll be at the garden, Mum."

Violet nodded. "Smoking?"

He shook his head and followed his brother out of the parlour. "Nope!" he said without looking back. He turned the corner and disappeared from sight, even as Violet craned her neck.

She turned to Molly and winked. "They're smoking."

The pathologist giggled and nodded. "That'd be his fourth cigarette today."

The former spy refilled their teacups. "His fourth! How come?"

She shrugged. "I'm not sure. To be honest, he's been fidgety and impatient today. When I asked him why, he told me that nothing's wrong. What do you think? Should I worry?"

Violet sipped her tea and considered what the younger woman said. "I do see that he's hiding something from us. I don't think you have to worry about it, though." She took Sherlock's previous seat and observed the sleeping infant. "By the way, how is our little Minerva?" she asked while stroking the baby's chubby leg.

Molly tenderly played with her daughter's hand. "She started teething a few months ago and it was a real nightmare for all of us. Thank God, it's settled for now. Look, she's got her central incisors," she said, smiling and gently pulling back Minerva's lip to show Violet her upper teeth.

She grinned and inspected Minerva's new teeth. "Sherlock comforted her when she was teething at night, didn't he?"

"Yes, he did. Playing his violin soothed her at night. There was a week, though, when he was away on a big case and none of us got any sleep. Oh, my God. Minerva was crying, I was crying. I went to work without sleep, looking like a zombie. Mike Stamford took one look at me and sent me home. I told him it was fine, but he insisted that I get some sleep and take a few days off. So I did, while Mrs Hudson looked after the baby."

Violet gently squeezed her arm. "How about this? When she resumes teething, tell me and I will go to my house in London. Either you drop her off at my house or I go to your flat. You won't have to take any time off work, and Martha and I, as well as Sherlock if he's not on a case, will take care of her." She smiled at the pathologist. "How's that?"

"Are you sure? You don't have to do that, Violet. I'm sure we'll be able to handle it better next time."

"I'm sure you will, dear," she said with a chuckle. "I know I don't have to, but I'd _love_ to. I'd be able to help the two of you, I could catch up with Martha, and I could spend more time with my granddaughter. Not to mention that my London house hasn't been inhabited for nearly four years. I miss it."

"Well, if you're sure, then yes, I'd love that. I'm not sure how Sherlock would react, but it would be an enormous help. Thank you, Violet."

She squeezed the younger woman's hand. "You're welcome, dear. Don't worry about Sherlock. I'll deal with him." The two women laughed. "Aside from the teething," the elder woman continued after a moment's pause, "how is she?"

The pathologist grinned at her sleeping daughter before answering. "Well, she knows now which is Mama and which is Dada. She's also beginning to crawl and she gets faster each day. Also, she has started to cruise around the nursery and sitting room while holding on to our furniture. Which means we need to finish baby proofing the flat."

"What else do you need to do to baby proof the flat?"

"Just the safety gates, really. John, Mary, Greg, and I installed the locks and guards on everything, doorstops, knob covers, and cat net. We've covered the electrical outlets she could reach with furniture and books. We've triple-checked her toys for choking hazards. We've moved her crib far away from the window and the blinds. I've removed the body parts from the fridge and threatened Sherlock if he nicked body parts from the morgue. We've even-"

"As in, threatened him with no sex for a week or something?" Violet interrupted with a laugh.

"Yep," Molly answered with a giggle, her cheeks flushing. "We've even bought a custom safety cabinet for his experiments and equipment. I've asked him to make sure he cleans up the kitchen table and locks up his equipment."

"Does he actually clean up and lock up his things?"

"For the most part, yes. I've had to gently remind him a few times. We haven't had an accident, thank God."

"Good. So why haven't you installed the safety gates?"

"Sherlock is in charge of it," Molly answered with a deep sigh.

Violet nodded. "Ah, I see. Threatening him with no sex doesn't work?"

"To be fair, he just got off a string of 'eight' and 'nine' cases. I'll remind him again in the morning. If he still doesn't do it, then I'll ask John and Greg to help him."

"Has she started pointing at objects?"

"Yes, she has. She's also picking up her toys and blankie with her thumb and finger." Molly demonstrated with the blanket covering the sleeping baby.

"When Sherlock was eight months old, I found him passing his pacifier from one hand to the other. Does Minerva do that too?"

"Not her pacifier, no. But just the other day, I watched her play with the wooden ring stacker that John and Mary gave her. And at one point, she was passing the ring from one hand to the other. I didn't have my phone then, so I didn't get to record it. But I'll make sure to have my phone next time."

Violet smiled at Molly. "That is wonderful to hear. She seems to be advanced for her age."

"Yeah. She's even pronounced Mycroft's name in her baby way," she pointed out.

"I know. Who'd have thought Mycroft would be right about his niece?" The elder woman joined Molly in laughter.

"What about Mycroft? I mean, is he seeing someone? Does he ever want a child?"

Violet crossed her legs and shifted in her seat. "Oh, he seems to be fond of his assistant."

"Anthea?"

"Yes, Anthea. She's a lovely woman. But she's my son's assistant and he's not the type to fraternise with his subordinates. It's clearly something he learnt from his father's mistakes. Unfortunately, Mycroft also doesn't seem to be the type to want children." She smirked. "Then again, I used to think Sherlock didn't want children. Now he's a father and he seems to be good at it."

"To be fair, Minerva wasn't planned. But, yes, Sherlock is a good father. He's not perfect, of course. But he's trying. And he's also adjusting from being a childless bachelor to having child and a girlfriend."

"Still? It's been over eight months!"

Molly giggled. "Yes, I know. Surprisingly, he's affectionate. But only in private." She chuckled and flushed. "And we've, um, started a tradition of, um, post-case sex." She giggled again and blushed crimson. She cleared her throat before continuing. "And he hates the terms 'boyfriend' and 'girlfriend'. So we're 'significant others' and 'partners,' which is totally fine with me."

"Making up for lost time, isn't he?" She joined Molly in a brief giggling fit. "What about anniversaries? And birthdays?"

"Oh, he remembered my birthday. He gave me a bouquet of red and pink tulips this year. He'd said that he won't delete my birthday, as well as Minerva's, from his mind palace. But I can't always expect that he'd do something special or give me extravagant gifts. It's completely understandable, and I'm OK with that. Honestly, I'm fine as long as he remembers the occasion. I'd be perfectly happy with a 'Happy Birthday' or 'Many Happy Returns' and a kiss. Same goes for our anniversary."

"And what anniversary date did you agree on?"

"The 24th of April. It's when we had 'the talk'. It was also the first time he told me that he loved me." She softly chuckled. "Truthfully, he just wants me to choose a date that means a lot to us. He says he'll remember it."

Violet nodded. "You know, whichever date you choose, he'll remember it, but he's not likely to remember what it's for."

"I'm aware of that," she agreed. She sighed before chuckling. "He probably already saved the date in his mind palace. Then on the day next year, he'll know it's an important date. But he won't remember why. God, I'll have to remind him every year, won't I?"

"That's why smartphones exist, dear," she remarked with a wink.

The pathologist joined her in laughter. "You're right. Let's just hope the reminder doesn't distract him and cost him a case."

"Yes. You know what, though, I've observed that he'll keep the information in his mind palace if it's truly relevant to him, even if it has something to do with 'pesky' sentiment. He told me once that he would retain something about you without meaning to and he couldn't delete it even if he wanted to. I think your anniversary - both the date and its importance - would be another piece of information that he'll retain. You'll just have to be patient with him."

She sipped from her cup. "That's the plan. Even if he doesn't remember the date's importance, I'll remember it for both of us. I'm honestly more concerned about him forgetting Minerva's birthday!"

"Don't worry, darling. I'll remind him if he forgets it." She paused to drink her tea. "So, he finally told you that he loved you on the 24th of April, eh?"

Molly nodded and smiled at the memory. "Yes, actually. We'd settled into a routine, but we hadn't defined our relationship until that night. I mean, it's surprising how we quickly figured out what works best in our little family unit, considering neither he nor I dreamt that we were going to be a family."

"I think it's because you and Sherlock work well in the professional setting. You two have been working together for years. You know what makes each other tick and you know each other's quirks. You both know when to say something and when to wait it out. Your excellent professional relationship helps you navigate your personal relationship. Do you see what I mean?"

"Yes, I do. You're absolutely right. And yet we constantly discover something new about each other. For instance, I didn't know how touchy-feely he could be in private. I also didn't know how much he loved to dance. He'd dance around the flat with Minerva in his arms, while he played her song at bedtime." She smiled as she recalled the many times she had caught him doing that. "And I'm sure I've surprised him with my grumpiness in the morning or with my fondness for jazz music."

"Yes, he was classically trained. For a genius, he always missed something, even when it's right in front of him."

"Exactly." She chuckled as she remembered something. "When Minerva was a few months old, I was making my favourite for dinner and I was singing 'At Last' by Etta James. He was on a case and the baby was playing in her basket. Because I was singing, cooking, and keeping an eye on Minerva, I didn't hear Sherlock come home. I turned to see why the baby was cooing loudly and I caught Sherlock with his jaw on the floor!" The two women laughed. "Oh, my God. It was one of the funniest things I've ever seen."

"I'm guessing he made use of your love for jazz music in the bedroom later that night." The elder woman winked at her and laughed out loud.

"Violet!" Molly flushed and giggled. "It's so weird talking about sex when it's _your_ _son_ I'm having sex with."

The former spy laughed in response. "Don't worry, Molly. I won't tell him whatever you tell me." She winked at the pathologist, making her laugh and her cheeks turn crimson.

Gavin appeared at the parlour's doorway. "Mrs Holmes, I apologise for the interruption," said the butler. He waited until the women had stopped laughing before continuing. "There's a call for you in the den, ma'am."

"Thank you, Gavin," Violet said as she rose from her seat. "Give me a moment, will you?" She smiled at the butler, who nodded and left.

"I'll walk out with you, Violet," stated Molly as she slung the changing bag over one shoulder and carefully lifted the sleeping baby from the basket. "The little one dropped a stinky pickle."

The elder woman sniffed and winced. "Phew! Come on, then." The two women walked out of the parlour. "Perhaps we can catch the boys smoking," she whispered so the baby wouldn't wake and winked at Molly, who giggled.

Sure enough, when they passed by the ceiling-to-floor windows in the kitchen, Molly spied the brothers talking in the garden, as well as the lit cigarettes from between the men's fingers. Before she left the kitchen for the powder room, she saw Sherlock inhale smoke from his cigarette and turn to her direction. His jaw clenched and his Adam's apple bobbed in his throat as he waved to her. She waved back and headed for the loo. _Someone looks annoyed_, she thought. _What could they be talking about to make him look annoyed?_

**III.**

Meanwhile, Sherlock and Mycroft went out to the lush garden at the back of the mansion. The former headed for the largest and tallest bush in the garden, his brother following him with a raised eyebrow. "For once, I'm grateful for the ridiculous amounts of money Mum spends on landscaping," he said as he removed a pack of cigarettes from his coat pocket. He smirked as he offered a cigarette to his brother.

"Have you been using the garage then?" Mycroft accepted the cigarette and let his brother light it for him.

"To be honest, I haven't been smoking since Minerva was born. I'll go back to nicotine patches tomorrow." He closed his eyes as he exhaled, the look of pure bliss on his face making his brother quirk his mouth in the smallest of smiles.

"And, what, dear brother, has you smoking today? You're not sick of being a father and a boyfriend, are you?" teased Mycroft.

Sherlock gave his brother a contemptuous look. "For the record, no, I am not. Molly is the best _partner_ I could ask for. And Minerva is the best thing that could have happened to us. How dare you insinuate anything about being a partner and a father when you are neither?"

The scowl he gave Mycroft earned him only a raised eyebrow. "Defensive much, little brother?"

"I am not being defensive. I'm just passionately-"

"Aggressively."

"-_Passionately_ pointing out that you have no right to accuse me of anything if you don't know what you're talking about. That's all."

Mycroft turned to face his brother. "I am not accusing you of anything. I am merely curious. And you didn't answer my question. What has got you worried and nervous? You're also unsuccessfully attempting to hide it from Molly and from Mummy. So it must be important."

The detective glanced at his older brother and sighed. "Who says I'm worried or nervous?" When Mycroft didn't answer, Sherlock threw him another glance. Seeing a cocked eyebrow, he shook his head and took another hit from the cigarette. "Let me ask you something, Mycroft. Have you ever had a romantic relationship with anyone?"

"Why do you ask?"

"Just humour me. Unless, of course, you're ashamed of them."

"Yes," he finally answered after a long pause. "In uni. With a woman and a man."

"At the same time?"

"Of course not. When I was younger, I found out I was attracted to both genders. So I went out with a woman. Months after that ended, I went out with a man. I've had no one since then."

"Interesting. Why did those relationships end?"

"That's none of your business, brother mine." He inhaled from his cigarette and looked away.

"They ended things, didn't they?" He stared at Mycroft's impassive face and waited for a response. After a few moments of silence, the detective laughed. "Of course they did. They resented your ambitions." He chuckled some more until his brother threw him an irked glance. "Do you ever want to be in another relationship?"

"No, I don't. I spend what free time I have making sure that you don't get into too much trouble. You have always been a handful, Sherlock. How am I going to have time for a romantic relationship?"

"What about Anthea?"

"She's my assistant."

"You also spend so much time with her."

"Because she works for me."

"I'm sure Mummy would like another grandchild. And since I'm in a long-term committed relationship and we currently have no plans to have another child, you're left to impregnate someone - say, Anthea - and make Mum happy."

"Stop it."

"It's a shame Lestrade is married. You'd be great for each other."

Mycroft turned to give Sherlock an angry glare. "Romantic relationships - or other kinds of relationships, for that matter - are not my area. Now, could you, dear brother, stop insinuating anything between Anthea or DI Lestrade or _anyone_ and me?"

Sherlock raised his hand in surrender and chuckled. "All right, Fatty." He smirked at his irritated brother. "I did say the same thing to John on our first case. I told him that girlfriends aren't my area. Look where I am now. Not only am I in a deeply committed relationship, I'm also the father of an eight-month-old baby."

"Well, I'm not like you." He inhaled from the cigarette and stared at his brother.

"What?" the detective asked irritably.

"You are thinking of marrying Molly," stated Mycroft, his tone and his eyes unable to suppress his surprise. When the younger Holmes didn't answer, he cocked an eyebrow. "And you are proposing tonight. Oh, my."

Sherlock took a long drag from his cigarette before nodding. "Yes."

"Have you got the ring?" Mycroft stomped on the cigarette butt and thrust his hands into the pockets of his trousers.

"Not yet. I haven't had a chance to ask Mum if I could give Molly her engagement ring."

"Mummy will be delighted. May I ask why you suddenly want to marry her?"

"Why not? She's the only person I can picture growing old with. If John and Mary were here, they would say that she and I are 'soulmates'. She's an excellent partner, both professionally and romantically, as well as a patient and loving mother to our child. She loves me unconditionally. And I love her more than I could ever express."

Mycroft gave him a searching look. After a lengthy pause, he nodded. "I see. You don't need to be married, though. You can go on cohabiting and parenting without matrimony."

"You're right. It's not necessary." He finished his cigarette and threw the butt to the ground. "But I _want_ to marry her."

"Why, though? You once said that you would never marry, lest you bias your judgment."

"Yes, I did say that. But, frankly, my clearance rate hasn't suffered since I came back from the dead. Mary actually calculated it to be eight per cent higher than my rate before my time away. My methods haven't changed as well. Yes, Molly and Minerva are in danger just because they're associated with me. But the Moran incident also proved that I'd do absolutely anything to protect my family. So, as you can see, being in a committed relationship and having a child haven't negatively affected my judgment and abilities. Well, other than being a bit more mindful of dangers and making sure to text Molly whenever I can't go home at night, that is."

"I'm so happy for you." Mycroft's tone was flat and disinterested. "I didn't expect you to turn traditional once you let yourself become entangled in romance."

Sherlock lit another cigarette and took a drag from it before speaking. "I am not being traditional. It's just logical to think about my family's future if I get killed or severely injured while on a case."

"Have you prepared your will then?"

"Yes. I'll update it once Molly and I are married." He turned to Mycroft and offered him another cigarette, which the elder man accepted.

"I thought you're more mindful now of the dangers in your chosen profession. You have a will in case something happens to you. Why do you need to enter into matrimony?"

"Why isn't it enough that I want to marry Molly?" He faced his brother and narrowed his eyes at him. "Why are you against my marrying her?"

"I'm not. I have never been against your relationship. In fact, I agree that she's likely the only woman truly suitable for you. I simply want to know exactly why you insist that marriage is necessary for you and Molly."

Sherlock inhaled smoke from his cigarette and turned to the direction of the kitchen. His gaze landed on Molly, who was carrying a sleeping Minerva through the kitchen on her way to the loo. Unable to hide his frustration and annoyance, he clenched his jaw and swallowed as he waved at her. He sighed when he saw her questioning look and prepared himself for her questions later. He turned back to his brother once she exited the kitchen. "Is it so surprising that I have changed my mind regarding marriage after eight and a half months with Molly? She loves me and I love her. We have a beautiful child together. I want to be with her for the rest of my life. Honestly, other people have married for less!"

Mycroft stared at him while Sherlock worked on his fifth cigarette. "Are you sure this is what you want?"

"Yes! How many times do I have to say that?"

"This doesn't have anything to do with your visitor last week, does it?"

Sherlock stared at his brother's smug, knowing look for a few moments. He grunted in annoyance and took a deep drag from his cigarette.

The elder brother nodded and stuffed his hands into his trouser pockets. "Very well. Do let me know if you need me to do anything."

Sherlock looked at him for a few moments before extinguishing his cigarette. "Thank you."

Clearing his throat, Mycroft moved to leave their hiding place. "It's best we go back in soon. Mum and Molly are likely wondering what we've been up to."

"They probably know that we've been smoking," said Sherlock as he followed his brother through the kitchen door.

"Oh, I know that," Mycroft answered with a smirk.

When the brothers re-entered the parlour, Violet and Molly sat on one sofa while the latter held a milk bottle to Minerva's lips. Violet watched her granddaughter as they chatted about Molly's students.

Violet greeted them with a smile. "Hello, boys." At the sound of her voice, the pathologist raised her eyes and smiled at Sherlock.

"Hi, Mum," answered the detective.

She raised her eyebrow when her elder son sat down on the opposite sofa but the other remained standing. "Yes, darling?"

He cleared his throat and answered Molly's questioning gaze with a small smile before turning to his mother. "I need to speak with you in private." He swallowed as he noticed the women in his life exchanging glances. "If you're not too busy, that is."

The former spy kissed Minerva's small fist before rising to her feet. "Of course, Sherly." She turned to the other adults. "Will you excuse us for a minute?"

"Sure," Molly replied with a smile.

"Take your time," Mycroft said as he sat back and stared at his niece.

Brows knitted and frowning, the pathologist watched them leave the room. She fixed her gaze on Mycroft once the two were out of sight. "What was that about? Is everything all right?"

He poured himself a fresh cup of tea. "Of course it is," he replied, giving her a small smile. "How is she?" he asked, gesturing towards Minerva.

"She's getting cleverer and stronger every day. She's started teething too. If you'd like, I can show you her new teeth after she's done feeding." She smiled, but Mycroft only shook his head. "Anyway, she has also started crawling and cruising around the flat while holding on to furniture. She also knows which one is Mama and which one is Dada."

"That's wonderful to hear," he said, giving her a brief smile. "And how is Sherlock faring as a first-time father?"

Molly shifted Minerva in her arms before answering. "He's surprisingly good. He takes care of her when I'm at work and when I'm asleep. He tells her about his adventures. Sometimes he even tells her the gory details, though I've asked him not to. He teaches her about chemistry and the science of deduction, though I don't think she retains anything yet. But she likes the sound of his voice so she's quiet when he's talking to her. He plays her song nearly every night at bedtime. When he's off on a case, I play the song on the iPod for her."

"He hasn't experimented on her?"

Molly sighed. "He performs behavioural experiments on her. I usually just let it go, as long as he doesn't give her any drugs or something. When he forgets to ask me, I offer my help to make sure he doesn't do anything crazy. And you know how parents fill in baby memory books or scrapbooks? While we do have a memory book, Sherlock also maintains a diary of her growth and development. That includes observing and testing the chemical properties of her faeces every month."

"Well, that keeps him off the sauce," Mycroft said with a small smile.

"Yeah. And it also keeps him from shooting at the wall when he's bored or just off a case." She giggled and winked at him.

"And how is he as a boyfriend?" Mycroft asked, crossing his arms and his legs.

Molly frowned, her brows furrowing. "He's everything I expected him to be. He's affectionate in private and possessive in public. He kind of ignores us while he's on a case, unless he needs us. At work, he's a tiny bit nicer when asking to see bodies or using my lab, and he kisses me on the cheek every time he leaves. A few times, I've caught him singing to Minerva while staring at his information wall. Sometimes, he asks me to massage his scalp because it helps him think. Otherwise, nothing has really changed about our working relationship."

He nodded and said nothing for a few moments. "How do you feel about being known to the public as Sherlock's significant other? Has anyone harassed you or otherwise treated you negatively?"

She shook her head, the creases on her forehead deepening. "No, not really. I've noticed people staring at me since the tabloids released photos of us. I've also read several comments on his website and on John's blog from anonymous fans complaining about his choice of companion. But the comments stopped when he admonished and threatened them on both sites. Both he and John have also disabled anonymous comments on their blogs. Other than that, it's been fine. No one had assaulted me or anything."

"Do you need my help with these anonymous fans? I can have them arrested for threatening national security. On behalf of the British security service, of course."

She began bouncing the baby on her lap and smiled at him. "Thanks for the offer, but no, that's not necessary. I just ignore them anyway. It's enough that he defended our relationship when he didn't have to." She raised an eyebrow. "Why are you asking me all these questions, Mycroft? Is anything wrong?"

"Nothing is wrong. I merely want to know if you're happy with Sherlock. From what you described, he doesn't seem to have changed much. He doesn't seem to be sufficiently romantic. Don't women want romantic partners?"

A soft smile formed on her lips. "Well, I've known him for a long time and I've long accepted that he'll be an unconventional boyfriend. To be honest, I used to think that I needed a man who showers me with affection, who gives me nice gifts on anniversaries and birthdays, who takes me to dinner at least once a month, who tells me he loves me every day, who has a 9-to-5 kind of a job, who proposes after a year or two of dating, who marries me in a church in front of our families and friends, who teaches our kids football and rugby and cricket, and who retires at 70 and travels the world with me."

"And now?"

She laughed and made a face at Minerva, making her laugh. "When Sherlock and I began this relationship, even before we defined it, I ceased to be that girl. Now I'm with a man who's only affectionate with me in private, who has informed me that he'll remember anniversaries and birthdays but won't do anything special, who considers taking me to crime scenes and performing scientific experiments with me as dates, who rarely tells me he loves me but is always emotional when he does, who has the most unpredictable work hours, who thinks marriage is unnecessary, who teaches his eight-month-old daughter chemistry and deduction, and who'll probably only retire when John passes on." She made another face at the babbling baby and kissed her cheeks. "And I wouldn't trade him for anyone else. See, Mycroft, we have a great partnership. It's not perfect, of course. But we love each other and we love Minerva. I'll be with him until he doesn't love me anymore or, preferably, until death parts us."

He nodded and remained silent for a while. He downed the rest of his cooling tea and reached for a milk chocolate digestive biscuit. He took a bite and gave his niece a small smile, which made her laugh.

Seeing Minerva's response to her uncle's smile, Molly stood with the baby in her arms and took a few steps towards Mycroft. She gently balanced her daughter on his lap and had to bite back a giggle at the confused look on his face.

"Molly, what are you doing?" He grimaced and held his niece's arms to prevent them from hitting his face.

"If you're not going to tell me why you're asking about Sherlock as a father and a boyfriend, as well as why he's acting strange today, then I'd appreciate it if you spent the rest of our visit with your niece." She bent over him, careful not to encroach upon his personal space, and arranged Minerva to sit on his lap with her back on him. She took his hands and wrapped them around the baby's body to keep her from falling. She straightened up and grinned at them. "There!" She kissed her babbling daughter's forehead and returned to her seat. Still grinning, she poured herself a fresh cup of tea.

"What am I supposed to do with her?" While the baby was twisting her small body to face him, he was rigid and still as he held her.

"You could play with her. We show her photos of you, but you barely see each other in flesh. Who knows when you're going to see each other again? Might as well bond with her now, while Violet and Sherlock are having their secret meeting. Plus, I got peckish." She winked as she reached for a biscuit.

"Mama! Mama!" squealed Minerva as she continued to twist her torso to face her uncle.

"Yes, sweetie? Mama is resting. Talk to Uncle Mycroft." She sipped from her cup while keeping her gaze on her daughter and her partner's brother.

He cleared his throat and gazed down at his niece. He lifted her and turned her around so that she faced him. "Hello, Minerva. I am Uncle Mycroft. How are you?"

"Mafa!" squealed the eight-month-old. She smiled at him, showing off her brand-new teeth.

Molly didn't take her eyes off the two as she took another sip of her tea. She put her cup down on its saucer and took a small bite of her biscuit. She smiled when she saw a huge smile on the British government's face as he gazed at his niece.

"My compliments on getting your new teeth. Was it painful?"

Minerva babbled in response. He nodded and pretended to understand her answer. He continued to speak to her as if they were the same age. Even when Sherlock and Violet came back and watched the scene with their jaws on the floor, he kept talking to her. Only when Minerva turned her head around and called to her father did Mycroft stop. Blushing, he lifted her and moved to transfer her to Sherlock's arms when Violet and Molly both shook their heads. Sherlock set the Moses basket on the floor and sat next to Molly, while Violet sat next to her eldest son. The detective held the pathologist's hand, while the former spy patted her son's shoulder and made silly faces at her granddaughter.

"Well, well, well," Sherlock teased with a smirk.

"Shut up," Mycroft answered without taking his eyes off his niece.

Violet chuckled. "You look good with a baby in your arms." She laughed again when her son glared at her. "Is Anthea single?"

"Mum!" he answered with an exaggerated sigh. He turned to his squealing niece and looked her in the eye. "You and your future siblings will be the only babies I will ever hold."

"Awwwwwwwww!" exclaimed Molly and Violet in unison, while Sherlock smiled smugly at his brother.

"Shut up," he repeated.

The three adults and the baby laughed in response. Then Minerva passed gas, and they laughed harder at the disgust on Mycroft's face.

**IV.**

While his partner and his brother chatted, Sherlock led his mother to the master bedroom upstairs. He sat on the bed and placed his hands on his knees.

Violet squeezed his hand as she sat next to him. "You needed to talk to me?"

He sighed and turned to his mother. "Yes," he croaked. He cleared his throat and smiled at her. "I need your engagement ring, Mum."

Her face lit up and she covered her mouth with her hands. "Oh, Sherlock!" she exclaimed.

He grinned. "Yes, Mum. I am proposing to Molly. Tonight, hopefully." He rolled his eyes, but it failed to conceal the joy in them.

She placed her hand on his and looked into his eyes. "Are you sure?"

Heaving a frustrated sigh, he pulled his hand from his mother's grasp. "_Why_ does everyone keep asking me that?"

"Everyone?"

"John, Mary, Mrs Hudson, even Mycroft! It's bloody irritating. Is it so difficult to imagine that I _want_ to marry Molly?"

Violet grabbed his hand and pulled it towards her. "Well, you don't seem to be the marrying type. Obviously, I can't speak for the Watsons, Martha, and Mycroft. While I am ecstatic for both of you, I am still amazed that you're not bored of your domestic partnership yet."

"How could I be bored if I'm with Molly? I mean, I've known her for several years, so I thought I knew every little thing about her. Yet she keeps surprising me." Laughing, he raised his eyes to the ceiling. When he dropped his gaze on his mother, the happiness in his eyes made her smile. "I have never been so happy to be wrong. And Minerva? She learns something new practically every day and I can't wait to document every new thing she does."

Violet's smile dropped and she glared at him. "Sherlock Holmes, have you been experimenting on your own daughter?"

He scoffed and rolled his eyes. "Mum, please do relax. I'm just writing down my observations. I'm also testing how she reacts to certain stimuli. Molly even helps with that one. And I also test the chemical properties of her faeces every month and every time we add a new element to her diet. Who knows? I might use these findings in solving cases or for our next children."

The angry look on the former spy's face disappeared, and a smile formed on her lips. "I cannot believe Molly is letting you experiment on your daughter. I'd have thought she'd rip you a new one if you experimented on Minerva. Wait, wasn't that house rule number one?"

"She has allowed a few things since then. Seriously, Mum, will you relax? I'm not giving my daughter drugs or anything harmful."

"Says the man who used to drug John Watson without his consent," Violet pointed out as she folded her arms across her chest.

"John is an adult, as well as a doctor, and I always make sure he's fine. I do know that drugging an infant is wrong, you know. Well, I considered it once, but I immediately realised that Molly would kill me if I did."

Violet shook her head. "She'll probably be the only person capable of killing you and getting away with it."

"That is something I always keep in mind," he agreed. "Seriously, though. I promised Molly, and I promise you now, that I won't drug Minerva, unless it's in a controlled environment and she agrees to it. This promise also applies to our future children."

Violet pursed her lips and stared at Sherlock. "When you made that promise, was Molly in the same room and conscious enough to listen and agree? Did you actually voice out this promise? Did she explicitly agree to those exceptions?"

"Yes, to all three questions!" he nearly yelled after releasing an exasperated sigh. "Of course, she has to agree that any such test is necessary. She also has to approve every single step and to supervise to make sure I don't deviate from the plan."

Violet laughed. "Clever woman."

"Just one of the countless reasons I love her." Sherlock shared a bright smile with his mother before going serious. "You do know why I decided to propose to her, don't you?"

"If you're referring to your father's visit to Baker Street last week, then yes. I, however, didn't think that it would prompt you to propose to Molly. What did he want?"

He sighed. "Father visited to warn me."

"Warn you?" repeated Violet, whose jaw clenched and eyes hardened. "Sherlock, I need you to explain it to me in full."

"My last case involved him. I didn't know that he had aligned himself with Moriarty, although he claimed that he wasn't part of Moriarty's web. He has his own criminal network, but he had dealt with Moriarty's and they had some kind of a truce. So honourable of them, really. Anyway, those Mycroft and I deemed to be too unimportant to head Moriarty's network joined with Father's." He sighed again and rubbed his face with both palms. "Father knows that I love my family, that I would do anything to protect them. So what does he do? He tells me to stop coming after his network in exchange for leaving my family alone." He turned to his mother, his eyes full of pain and his hands tightly clasped together. "You knew about his criminal dealings, didn't you?"

Violet nodded. "Yes, I did."

"How? I thought you haven't spoken to him in over two decades?"

"I haven't. But I've heard of his activities. A few of my targets were members of his network. Through my contacts, I asked him to leave you boys alone and not to contact either of you ever again. He sent back his agreement."

"Why didn't you tell me? Does Mycroft know?"

"Because you didn't need to know. How could I have known that you would be a detective and would cross paths with your father some twenty-odd years later?" She sighed and grabbed Sherlock's hand with both of hers. "Yes, Mycroft learnt the truth himself after he joined the service. He spoke to me about it and we decided to leave your father be until his dealings threaten national security." She raised a hand to caress her son's cheek. "I am sorry for not telling you. I should have prepared you for this. But I made the wrong choice and, for that, I apologise."

"Why didn't you kill him when you had the chance?" he asked in a harsh whisper.

"Because I loved him and because he agreed to leave his sons alone. I thought he would keep his word. Evidently, he didn't." Tears welled in her eyes. "Sherlock, I promise you that I will eliminate him myself if he dared to hurt Molly and Minerva. You know that I love them so much and that I am a woman of my word."

"Thank you, Mum. But I prefer to pull the trigger. Or if you'd like, we could do it together."

With tears streaming down her cheeks, she kissed Sherlock on the forehead and smiled. "Of course, Sherly. I'd like that. We can even get Mycroft to join the club."

Sherlock gave his mother a soft smile. "Nah. He'd probably be rusty from years behind the desk. And we both know he hated field work."

Violet laughed. "Yes. But he'd make an exception for your father."

Sherlock reached up to wipe his mother's tears away. "He'd still be rusty," he insisted.

She smiled and shook her head. "He'll likely get his minions to do it. Regardless, he'll do it to protect you and your family."

He smiled and kissed her cheek in response. Then he cleared his throat and straightened up. "Mum, the ring?"

She rose from the bed and entered her spacious walk-in wardrobe. Less than a minute later, she beckoned him over. With his hands shoved into his pockets, he walked into the wardrobe and immediately saw the emerald-cut halo diamond engagement ring in her hand. He approached her and gaped at the small diamonds on the platinum band and surrounding the huge diamond.

"May I?" he asked, extending his hand towards her.

Violet pursed her lips and narrowed her eyes. "Tell me again why you want to marry Molly."

Sherlock sighed. "Mum!" He rolled his eyes at the raised eyebrow that she gave him. "I want to marry her because I love her and she's the most - perhaps, the only - suitable woman to spend the rest of my life with. Our marriage will also provide the utmost legal protection for our family in case Father doesn't keep his word and he makes good on his threat."

She laughed. "Excellent summary." She held out her hand to Sherlock, who snatched the ring from her palm.

He immediately inspected the ring, bringing it extremely close to his eye and turning it over in his hand. "Impressive. I can see why you married him."

The former spy chuckled and began locking up her safe. "I married him because I loved him. And he loved me in his own way. And, if you must know, he bought that with his father's money. He didn't start his life of crime until ten years into our marriage." She turned to him and smirked. "I trust you won't have that problem?"

"Me? No! I may disregard rules and laws in my work, but the life of crime isn't for me. I'm not James Moriarty. And if Mycroft found anything criminal in Molly's past or ancestry, he would have insisted on telling me. He has said nothing, so I presume he didn't find anything."

"I ran my own background check on her and nothing criminal or questionable turned up."

Sherlock grinned. "Good to know. Oh, the box, Mum?"

"Yes, sorry." She removed the black velvet box from her trouser pocket and handed it to her son.

"Thanks," he said as he placed the ring in its slot. He closed the box and put into his inside suit pocket. After giving his mother a kiss on the cheek, he offered her his hand. He grinned wider when she took it. "We'd best get back downstairs. Mycroft is probably traumatising Minerva."

Violet chuckled as he led her out of the bedroom. "Unlikely. Ignoring her is more his speed."

"You're right. Plus she's probably too young to be traumatised by her uncle."

"True. But, for all we know, Molly might have persuaded him to bond with Minerva."

Sherlock laughed. "Well, if that happens, then I'll spare no expense and I'll give her everything she wants for the wedding."

Shaking her head, Violet rubbed his cheek with her free hand. "Sherlock, she hasn't even said yes."

He turned to her with a confused look on his face. "Why wouldn't she say yes?"

"Because you might not actually ask her to marry you. You know, instead of, 'Will you marry me,' it would be something completely different and likely offensive or confusing."

Sherlock considered his mother's words for a moment. "You're right. Perhaps, I'll-"

Having reached the doorway of the formal parlour, Violet followed his gaze. Her jaw dropped when she saw her eldest holding and talking to Minerva as if she were his own age. Careful not to disturb them and Molly (who watched them with an amused smile), she covered her mouth to stifle a laugh. She turned to Sherlock and smiled at his own dropped jaw. She tugged his hand, snapping him out of his trance, and led him inside. She sat next to her eldest son and her babbling granddaughter without taking her eyes off the couple holding hands and smiling at each other across from her.

She couldn't wait to help them plan their wedding.

**V.**

Back in London, a bespectacled, pyjama-clad Molly lay in bed with a hardcover copy of _Under the Dome_ in hand. She smiled when she heard the music cease from the baby monitor. "Hope he didn't have a hard time putting her to sleep," she muttered to herself as she turned a page. A few moments later, Sherlock entered the bedroom. "She's asleep?" she asked, turning to him.

"Yeah. She was out halfway through the song. That's incredible, considering she fell asleep in the car," he answered as he joined her in bed, turning out the light on his side as he did so.

She closed her book and set it on the nightstand. After turning out the light on her side, she snuggled into him, his arms automatically wrapping around her body. "Did you have a good day today? I noticed that you weren't as fidgety as you were this morning."

"Actually, yes. Apologies for that again. I was just..." He sighed before continuing. "I was just slightly worried about something."

She raised her head and stared at him for a few moments. "Worried about what? A case?"

He smiled at the concern in her voice and gave her a peck on the lips. He caressed her cheek with his thumb and kissed the tip of her nose. "Not a case."

"So what is it? Is Moriarty back?" Worry marred her face and she sat up. "Did someone succeed Moran? Are we in danger? Should we have stayed at your Mum's house tonight? Do we need to fake your death again?"

He stared at her as she asked him question after question, an amused smile playing on his lips. "Will you calm down?" He reached for her and pulled her down until he could feel her warm breath against his neck. His arms wrapped around her as hers did the same to his body. "The answer to all your questions, save the first, is no. I'd have told you immediately if you and Minerva were in danger." He kissed her forehead, and she snuggled closer. "Do you really want to know what I was slightly worried about?"

She stared up at him, quiet determination and strength in her eyes. "Yes, I do. Tell me what's wrong and I will help you in any way I can."

He cleared his throat and kissed her lips before speaking slowly. "Actually, I'm not worried about that anymore."

She rolled her eyes at him as he laughed. "You git. You made me worry for no reason."

"Sorry. You still love me, right?"

"Of course I do, silly. And do you still love me?"

His eyes softened and he stared up the ceiling with a soft, happy smile. "Yes, I do." He cleared his throat and fixed his gaze on the woman he's holding. "Would you like to get married?"

She stared at him, shock evident on her face. "I beg your pardon?"

He stared back at her. "I'm serious, Molly. We just reaffirmed our love for each other. We make excellent partners at work and at home. Because of you - as well as John and Minerva, of course - I'm no longer afraid to show my heart to the people I deeply care about, even if only when necessary. You constantly bring out the human in me and I'm forever grateful for that." He disentangled himself from her grasp and removed the black velvet box from his bedside table. He rose from the bed and held out his free hand for her. "Here, sit on the edge of the bed. Please?" he added.

She took his hand and scooched over until her feet touched the floor. "Sherlock," she spoke as she stared at him in disbelief, her voice muffled by her free hand over her mouth. "I swear, if you're joking with me, I'll take Minerva and stay in your mum's house until you've sufficiently apologised."

He sighed as he faced her and brought one knee down. "I am perfectly serious. Shush and listen." He mumbled an apology when she threw him a disappointed look. He took a deep breath and gazed at her, his eyes full of emotion. "I love you. And I'd like to spend the rest of my life with you and our children. So, Molly-"

"Wait," she interrupted, the hand covering her mouth now clutching the covers. "Y-you want _more_ children?"

"Well, why not? Am I a terrible father?"

"No, no, you're not." Her hand cupped his cheek, and she smiled at him. "You're actually a wonderful father."

He chuckled as he thanked her. He removed the diamond ring from the box and held it up for her to see. He gazed up at her as tears welled in her eyes. "As I was saying, Molly Anne Hooper, you are my equal and my likeness. Will you marry me?"

She let out a sob and pulled her hand from his grasp. She brought her hands to his face and kissed him. She smiled as he began wiping her tears away. "Yes, Sherlock," she answered when she pulled away. "Yes, of course, I will marry you!"

Warmth filled his heart when he saw the joy in her eyes and in her smile. "Thank God," he muttered as he slipped the ring onto her finger. He rose and sat next to her. "Do you like it?"

"I love it! This is absolutely beautiful." She looked up at him. "How much did you pay for this?"

"Nothing. That was my mum's engagement ring," he answered while turning the light back on.

"Oh! Is this what the secret meeting was about?"

"Yeah," he answered, chuckling as he admired the ring on her finger. "Damn, my father knew how to pick jewellery, didn't he?"

"Yeah." She smirked at him and nudged his shoulder with hers. "Did your mum teach you how to propose to me?"

"What? No!"

"That was a beautiful speech, by the way."

Chuckling, he kissed her cheek. "Thank you. She did remind me to make sure I actually ask you. So I just tried to put what I'm feeling into words. Let me tell you, it wasn't easy." He smirked as he turned out the light and guided his fiancée back to bed. "Funnily, it took a while for me to find your favourite novel in my mind palace. Would you believe it was in the room entitled 'Stupid Things I Had to Read in School'?" He joined Molly in laughter as they settled under the covers. "Now it's in your room," he spoke in a low voice as he hovered over her.

She bit her lower lip before she pulled his head down for a kiss. "Thank you, honey," she said when they broke apart. She giggled when he began unbuttoning her pyjama top and kissing her upper chest. "Take off your shirt," she urged.

He pulled away from her chest with a soft growl and complied. Moments later, her top, their pyjama bottoms, his boxers, and her knickers were on the floor. He kissed his way down her body, making her giggle.

"Sherlock!" she moaned when he sucked on her sensitive button.

Later, when the sweat on their skin had cooled, he kissed her lips. "I love you," he whispered as her eyes fluttered shut.

"I love you too," she whispered back before snuggling closer to him. Within moments, her steady, relaxed breathing told him that she was fast asleep.

Just before he drifted off to sleep, he heard his mobile beep. He reached for his phone and groaned at the thought of leaving Molly's side if it was Lestrade telling him about a case. But the text message he received sent chills up his spine.

Congratulations on your engagement. You two are perfect for each other. - Father

* * *

_So, what do you think? Do y'all like it?_

_I enjoyed writing this so much. I hope you enjoyed reading this as well. _

_Oh, and can you guess Molly's favourite novel? Hehe. :)_


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